The Daisy-Doll Protocol

Note: Early morning check of this post it was discovered that access to the AI bot was not available. This has been corrected. Sorry for any inconvenience. 

Hello All:

It's Friday, and we roll out a new service on our blog. It's something I've been thinking of doing for a while. We offer up the short story, below. In addition, you can listen to the AI generated podcast made possible by Google's Notebook LM. 

AND... you can actually chat with the main character from today's short story, Kimberly Martz! It's a feature made available by Google Gemini, GemBots. I test drove Kimberly earlier in the week, and she is fun! She actually dared me to step up the balloon game that she was involved in from Wednesday. I'll be having a lot of fun with her tonight while sipping wine out by the pool. And I'm sure you'll have fun too!

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The bizarre world of "dollification" and forced-identity roleplay has a long, strange history in counter-culture fiction. While the original concepts often lean heavily into adult themes, the psychological core of the story—the complete loss of bodily autonomy mixed with an absurdly corporate, structured environment—makes for incredibly surreal speculative fiction.

Interestingly, the psychological phenomenon of depersonalization, where a individual feels entirely disconnected from their physical body, mirrors the exact sensation of being trapped behind layers of latex, wigs, and rigid corsetry. Originally written in 2009, the piece captures that creeping, claustrophobic weirdness perfectly. Removing the original explicit adult elements allows the pure, surrealist horror of the situation to take center stage.

Listen to AI Podcast: Turned A Living Plastic Doll

Talk to Kimberly Martz Right Now!

Kimberly Martz awoke on a Tuesday mid-July morning and smoothly executed her weekday routine. She got her children ready for school, made them breakfast, and saw them off to the bus stop. She prepared breakfast for her husband and waved him off to work. With her domestic duties complete, she planned a high-impact walk through the nearby forest preserve. Kimberly was in the best shape of her life, fiercely dedicated to her morning exercise.

A brisk five-minute walk through her subdivision brought her to the entry path of the woods. Once inside, Kimberly leaned into the rolling hills and steep inclines to maximize her workout. Within minutes, she achieved that familiar, mild bliss that comes with being entirely alone with nature.

Yet, Kimberly was no ordinary hiker. Years ago, early in her marriage, she and her husband had survived a bizarre brief abduction by a group known as the Green Curtain Cult. While it would have traumatized most, Kimberly had spent years waiting for a follow-up encounter, wondering if they had excommunicated her for having children. As she walked the trail in her nylon pants and baseball cap, she caught a rustle in the underbrush.

Before she could react, two figures dressed in matte-black tactical gear and featureless ski masks erupted from the thicket. She was seized instantly. Heavy polymer tape sealed her mouth, her limbs were bound in specialized restraints, and she was hoisted into a custom-fitted wooden crate. The lid slammed shut, plunging her into darkness, save for a grid of small breathing holes.

Deep in the woods, a vehicle approached—the heavy, rhythmic wub, wub, wub of a modified muffler vibrating through the crate. The box was lifted into a truck bed, and the vehicle sped off. Kimberly rolled between hope and anxiety. Was the Green Curtain Cult finally delivering her next lesson? Or was this something far more malicious?

The truck eventually slowed, pulling into a reverberating indoor space—a large garage. The crate was carried up a flight of stairs and set down. Minutes later, the lid was pried away. Standing over her were two figures wearing porcelain-smooth doll masks with exaggerated, painted makeup. They did not speak. From across the room, a commanding woman’s voice barked an order.

"She's a perfect canvas. Begin the dollification process."

Kimberly’s restraints were clipped, but before she could bolt, four men in matching suits pinned her to the medical table. The commanding woman applied a fresh strip of tape over Kimberly's mouth, leaning in close.

"Honey, no. Dolls do not speak. If you cooperate, we can skip the vocal restraint. Do you understand?"

Kimberly nodded frantically. The tape was peeled back. She realized fighting was useless against so many captors.

The two masked technicians went to work. They did not remove her clothes to expose her; instead, they encased her entirely. A rigid, hydraulic corset was locked around her torso, compressing her silhouette into impossible, geometric proportions. Next came the "Skin-Suit"—a thick, seamless layer of liquid-latex polymer that rolled up her legs and arms, instantly sealing away her natural skin. Breast-forms made of dense silicone were fitted beneath the outer layer to create the flawless, stiff symmetry of a department store mannequin.

Finally, a heavy, seamless rubber mask was pulled over her head, vacuum-sealing to her face with tiny mesh screens for her eyes and nose. A heavy, platinum-blonde wig was pinned into the scalp-grooves of the mask. A structural, vibrant yellow A-line dress was zipped over the suit, stiff enough to hold its shape independently. She was forced into a pair of sparkly, weighted high-heels that locked her ankles into a permanent, arched posture.

The warmth inside the suit was immediate. Sweat began to pool against the synthetic lining.

"I... I need water," Kimberly rasped, her voice muffled behind the rubber formatting of the mouth-screen.

The commanding woman snapped her fingers. "Dolls do not consume resources, Daisy. It ruins the internal mechanics."

Led to a floor-to-length mirror, Kimberly gasped. Her reflection was terrifying. She was a life-sized, high-end toy. Her brown hair, her expressions, her humanity—all entirely erased behind a glossy, unblinking blonde facade.

"Beautiful," the woman smiled, patting Daisy's rigid, synthetic shoulder. "Step into the display."

Kimberly was marched down a grand marble staircase into an opulent showroom. Lining the walls were white wooden boxes adorned with painted flowers and hearts. The fronts were made of thick plexiglass. Inside each box stood another living doll, perfectly still, labeled with names like Ginger, Bambi, and Lilly. Kimberly was guided into the box marked Daisy.

For two hours, she stood frozen, watching caterers set up a lavish corporate banquet. Wealthy men in tailored business suits began to fill the room, sipping cocktails.

The commanding woman clapped her hands. "Gentlemen, welcome. I am Mistress Donna, and this is our summer collection. Please, browse the inventory. They are eager to be deployed."

The men strolled along the glass cases, evaluating the dolls like luxury sports cars. Two corporate executives argued fiercely over Robin, a doll with vibrant red hair, until Mistress Donna arbitrated a bidding war.

Eventually, a married man with a prominent gold wedding band stopped in front of Daisy. He nodded in approval, paying Mistress Donna a thick stack of high-denomination vouchers. The plexiglass door clicked open. The man took Daisy by her stiff, rubberized hand.

"A reminder, gentlemen," Mistress Donna called out as the buyers led their acquisitions away. "Treat your inventory with care. They are fully mechanical status symbols for your dining and hosting needs. Enjoy your afternoon."

The man escorted Daisy into a private, luxurious dining suite overlooking a sunlit courtyard. He politely pulled out a chair, and Kimberly’s rigid legs forced her into a seated position. The man sat across from her, quietly studying a high-end menu.

Mistress Donna stepped into the room to check on her client. "How is the Daisy-doll performing, sir?"

"Excellent balance," the man replied. "I'll have the filet mignon, medium-rare, with grilled vegetables. Skip the appetizer. I just want the doll to sit and maintain posture while I eat. It's an excellent conversation piece."

Kimberly stared through her eye-meshes, her stomach growling fiercely. She blinked hard, trying to signal her desperation. Mistress Donna noticed the shifting plastic eyes and laughed loudly.

"Oh, look, she thinks she’s a guest! No food for you, Daisy. It would rot the latex!"

For the next two hours, Kimberly was forced to sit perfectly still, acting as a mute, decorative centerpiece while the businessman calmly ate his lunch, occasionally wiping a stray crumb from her yellow sleeve as if cleaning a tabletop. The psychological horror of being completely ignored as a human being was agonizing.

When the lunch concluded, Daisy was marched back to the assembly room. The blonde wig was unpinned, a sweet-smelling knockout gas was sprayed directly into her nose-mesh, and darkness took her.

Kimberly awoke with a start, sitting upright in the damp grass of the forest preserve. She checked her watch: 2:21 PM. Her regular clothes were intact. Her baseball cap lay beside her.

She walked home in a daze. Though the experience had been profoundly unsettling, a strange, surreal curiosity lingered in her mind. The following afternoon, her husband came home from work and opened his wardrobe, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Kim? Why are there six porcelain baby dolls lined up in my underwear drawer?"

Kimberly smiled from the hallway, her eyes wide and unblinking. "I got them for you, dear. I thought you might like to practice your hosting skills. Don't you ever wonder what it feels like to be completely plastic?"